Second Chances
by xjerkalert
Summary: "Jo Harvelle, you are a darned good kisser and I ask myself every day why I didn't find that out sooner," he sayswith a grin. She rolls her eyes. "Maybe because you're an idiot." He kisses her again. "Yep." AU Chestervelle. M for future chapters.


Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: M (for language, also later chapters, be patient!)

Pairing: Dean/Jo

AU: A year after she is attacked by the hellhounds, Jo's back. It's inexplicable, and a miracle of sorts; even Jo's not sure why she was spared. But she and Dean finally have a second chance together, and even though she's stubborn as hell and he's an overprotective asshole with the "emotional range of a teaspoon" (thank you, Hermoine Granger), they're gonna make it work.

Disclaimer: Don't own the show, the characters, etc. I just play.

Author's note: Essentially, this is just a bunch of progressive drabbles/short stories about Dean & Jo. Don't like the pairing? Don't read! It's that easy, guys. Constructive criticism and compliments are always welcome; flames (especially people hating on the pairing) will be used with salt to put spirits to rest. Sometimes my tense slips, and if you guys catch it, that'd be awesome. :D This is also my first fic in like 5 years, so please do be gentle with it. I write for you guys to enjoy!

Warnings: AU, smut, fluff, shameless Chestervelle loooove.

_It's late in the season: just a week or two ago, Sam and Dean were seated at a diner with an all-you-can-eat Thanksgiving buffet. It had been mediocre but that hadn't kept the elder Winchester from cleaning the place out of apple pie. Since it was Thanksgiving, he'd given Sam a piece, "in the spirit of the season" before doing his best vacuum cleaner impression on the remainder. And now, it was officially Christmastime. Sam smiles at excited children going to see Santa, and observed the Christmas lights and garlands with a quiet happiness, but Dean's favorite expression becomes "humbug!"_

_The first snow of the season is falling in Missouri, and Sam and Dean take out a harpy disguised as a sexy Christmas Elf. She's been seducing men and killing them. For once, their plan goes without a hitch and they have a night of free time on their hands. Dean insists on going to a local bar, and drags Sam with him. "I wanna hook up with the hottest chick in the bar tonight!" he tells his brother. Sam stays quiet, but he knows that Dean's lost his game since Jo died. No, not his game – he's lost his desire to look twice at any woman that _wasn't _Jo. But there was nothing Sam could do, and so he agrees to tag along as designated driver._

"Exactly how many beers have you had?" Sam asks, arching a brow at his brother. "Uh…four," Dean replies with a sloppy grin. "And shots of whiskey?" Sam presses. "Three…well, and a half. Missy couldn't finish hers." He's got his arm draped over the shoulders of a brunette in the shortest skirt Sam's ever seen. She's been giggling obnoxiously since Dean started hitting on her, and Sam rolls his eyes. "I thought you preferred blondes," he says boldly, knowing that it will rile Dean. The statement hits home, and Dean glares at Sam and finishes off his entire glass before answering. "I'm off blondes right now. You know that," Dean says shortly, and proceeds to order another round.

Sam sighs and leans against the bar, letting his gaze wander. There's not an excessive amount of patrons, given that it's a Wednesday night, but a fair amount of people are wandering around, eyes glazed and drinks in hand. He catches a glimpse of a familiar face. There, in the corner, batting her eyelashes at a tall blonde man, is none other than Joanna Beth Harvelle, the same girl whose guts Sam had seen spilled over a year prior. The same girl who Dean has been pining over since. Sam can't find the words; he punches Dean in the shoulder.

"What!?" Dean demands, rubbing the spot and glaring at Sam. Sam only points. Dean follows his direction, a bit blearily, and when he sees her, his jaw nearly hits the floor. Missy is offended; here she thought she was taking brothers home tonight, and now they don't even notice her. "She's not _that_ pretty!" Missy snaps, snatching up her purse and taking off. Sam hardly notices; Dean does not. The man who Jo is talking to has moved closer to her and put an arm 'round her waist, and Dean bristles.

He stands with such force that he knocks over his stool. Sam rights it, watching Dean stride over to Jo, who is trying to extract her small frame from the oaf's grip. Dean butts right in between them. "I believe the lady doesn't want your hands on her," he tells the blonde man. Jo gasps and her drink falls from her hand, shattering the glass against the dirty bar floor. "D-Dean?" she asks shakily. He gives her a grin worthy of Indiana Jones. "Hey there, sweetheart. Long time no see."

Jo is about to retort when her beaux gets fed up and takes a swing at Dean. Jo attempts to stop the fight that ensues, but she's accidentally knocked in the eye by a stray punch and it sends Dean into a rage. Sam only has to step in to pull Dean off the guy and haul him out of the bar. A few inches of snow are on the ground, and, in spite of the cold, Dean doesn't make straight for the Impala. He turns to Jo and takes her face in his hands, stroking her cheek with his thumb and looking at the bruise that's forming around her eye. "Are you okay? God, I couldn't protect you from the hellhounds and now I can't even save you from one asshole in a bar." "Dean I'm fine-" Jo manages, before he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to him. He holds her for a long time.

When he releases her, Jo gives Sam a warm hug. "Hell of a way to say hello after such a long time, but I wouldn't expect less from the Winchester boys," she teases. Sam and Dean smile. "Welcome back, Jo," they say in unison.


End file.
